Drawing by Judith Wolfe
Edmond Ronayne
WHAT ABOUT THE CURLY BITS
- “He come from the forest,” Zou said, “When they found him, he was curled on the ground.”
- “What do you mean they, Zou?” I said.
- “Well, actually it was me found him, eh.”
- “Have you looked for his owner?”
- “He was wild, I'm his owner now.”
- I shook my head. If Zou wasn't careful some fierce gang member with a pick handle would knock on his door. “He looks a bit thin on it, you feeding him?”
- “Oh yeah, a skinny dog's worthless. He get gravy beef every day and those dog biscuits from the supermarket too.”
- “It sounds like he's eating better than you, Zou.”
- Zou's eyes narrowed even further in one of those inscrutable looks I can never interpret.
- “So, has he got a name then, Zou?”
- “Yeah, I call him sausage dog.”
- I didn't have to look again to know the animal wasn't a dachshund. “That's not a sausage dog, Zou. It's some sort of mongrel, a bit of collie and a bit of terrier, maybe.”
- “Well I'm sorry but he looks like sausage dog to me. The sausages will taste real good too with a bit of sage and onions. I'll give you some, eh?”